Watching the Daughter of Heroes
by samirant
Summary: You'd think if you've kept an eye on someone all their life, you'd know everything about them. Harry and Ginny Potter's daughter knows differently. Originally a one-shot; now extended to five parts - WIP.
1. Child

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything connected with the books or movies. The character featured here, however, is of my own creation; please don't steal her. She's got a temper and won't hesitate to hex you; it's really in interest of your own well being to leave her alone.

The Child  
Part One of Five

It seems that anyone who's heard of your Da thinks they know everything about him and, by extension, about you. _You see there, Harry Potter, the one who saved us all? There he goes with his wife and all their children… Red, Red, Black, Red…. Another Black on the way, don't you know? That oldest Red… she'll be the first Gryff for them._ For those who've always kept an eye on the children of Heroes, it is accepted as common knowledge.

This is not to say that the your famous Da constantly parades his family around Diagon Alley just so everyone can get a glimpse. Surely not; he keeps you close to home in Godric's Hollow as much as possible. But like flies to honey: if you step out all together, curious eyes follow everywhere.

The fact of the matter is that if you have famous parents - your mother held her own during the war, that goes without saying - folks will always be watching. The Wizarding world knows your parents for their bravery, loyalty and wisdom; you know them as Mum and Da. Mum with long red hair like yours who always seems to be at the ready with another baby and smells like flowers. And your Da is more wonderful than anyone can imagine; no matter how big a hero he is to the world he is yours first and foremost.

When you get your letter inviting you to Hogwarts, they rally around _knowing_ that Gryffindor is about to get the newest generation of Potters. It's _expected_. Why, you've been sent plush lions all your life to play with and have been swathed in gold and red from the cot. Nearly Headless Nick floats about in the pictures of your baptismal, looking so proud one would venture to guess he was there during the conception itself.

So it's a little odd when Da holds you close on the platform 9 and ¾ and tells you he loves you and that he always will, even if you're not in Gryffindor. What is an eleven year old to say to that? Doesn't he know it's a cert? Instead, you hug Da with your skinny little arms, kiss him on the cheek and bound up on the train after blowing a raspberry at your siblings. They know you're joking, of course; you'll miss them almost as much as you miss Da and Mum.

But it is only Da and Mum who are told that the Sorting Hat tried valiantly to put you in Slytherin. The Weasley stubbornness, however, swayed it into letting you into Gryffindor. Who says that you can't have what you want? Mum seemed bothered, but Da was understanding when he owled you back an old piece of parchment to which you can pledge that you solemnly swear you are up to no good.

You wonder if he would have sent it if the Sorting Hat hadn't been convinced otherwise.

The curtains around your bed are the red and gold of an old, worn cradle and you stare at them until your eyes are dry and stinging. Nothing you can say inwardly soothes the sense that something is off kilter and you want to scream and curse because you can't find the source of it. Part of you wants to go to the Sorting Hat and ask why it had been so insistent and then gave in to your demands. When you cry that night and your new roommates try to make you feel better, you turn away from their sympathetic, curious eyes. They're thrilled to be in the same room as the daughter of heroes, but that's what makes it hard to trust them, what makes it difficult to determine their intentions. Besides, that's what Mum does sometimes, isn't it? She turns away just a little from you when she cries? Not from Sirius or Jane or Bilius, just from you. Then again, she was crying because she'd just watched you fly or heard you playing Aurors with Jane. When she's very happy, she'll hold you close, so close that you start to lose your breath.

As a child, you learned that when Mum turned away, Da would let you lay your head on his shoulder. How could he not be the one by which all others are measured? In the same way, in time you learn to open up to those sympathetic, curious girls and they slowly lose their awe. You're thankful and they become your closest friends where Jane was always just a bit too different for you to be perfect for each other's needs. Your first year passes in a blur and the train ride home is taken reluctantly because you know Godric's Hollow will never be the same as it was before. Even so, Da swoops in to welcome you home and you find such comfort in his arms, you're hard pressed think that anyone could ever be as great a man as he.

As more time passes and you return to Hogwarts, your love for Quidditch becomes too much and you steal the Seeker position from another Gryffindor. No matter that he's a fourth year and you're in second, everyone is watching and they can all see that you're the far stronger flyer. It comes with being Harry Potter's daughter, so you sneer at the boy when he gripes about losing his position to a girl. He rants about favoritism and you kick him in the shin. Then you tell him to be a man and appreciate that Gryffindor finally won the Quidditch Cup back from Slytherin.

In third year, the same boy tries to be man and asks you to Hogsmeade. It's all in fun, but you find you can hex him fairly quickly when he tries to kiss you without permission. His attempts at pleasing you are doomed to fail, but it's hardly surprising since you find it difficult to be completely sated by anything anyway. At thirteen, it's odd to realize this, but you choose to ignore it for now. In regards to the Gryffindor boy, he seems to drop off your radar until he's brave enough to try for a Beater position. You have a feeling he'd like to taunt you when he becomes captain in a couple of years, but knows far better than to volunteer to stand at the end of your wand.

The boys begin to flock to honey of a different kind, but you fend them off for quite a while. The Gryffindor boys are dashing, Ravenclaw's clever and Hufflepuff's kinder than all, but you can't stop your eyes from drifting to the Slytherin table during your fourth year. He sits there with dark hair that reminds you of Da's, but he's different in every other way. He smolders, struts and lifts his head in arrogance and you burn inside as you watch it all. Where you've always felt that something was a bit off, you're aware it's become a gaping hole that you can't ever fill. Your sympathetic, curious friends tell you that you'd be a wonderful match, standing by side with heads held regally high; but while your ambition has gained you popularity, respect and excellent marks, you fear him.

You fear him. And you don't know why.

Professor Snape doesn't mock you like he did Da; in fact, he treats you with high regard, much to the bewilderment of your housemates. Sometimes he leaves you in charge of Potions detentions as he takes care of Head of House business; it is once in fifth year when you want to worship at his feet for this. The Slytherin boy is there one night, having gotten into a fight with another boy who'd wanted the Quidditch Captain's position. You want to suggest a good kicking in the shin, but decide that maybe leaving the other boy starkers in the Great Hall did just as well if not better.

He knows you watch him as you gather that Gryffindor courage; he doesn't move as you walk purposefully over to him, throwing your red hair over a shoulder. He stands still as you kiss him solidly on the lips and then tell him he's free to leave. The cold flames of fear lick at your unprotected heart, but you stand there with a smirk on your face when his eyes betray him and show his intrigue. Even though he lifts his chin arrogantly and struts out of the room, it's obvious that from now on, he'll be watching you, as well.

In sixth year, you learn that manipulation can be handy tool. Not to hurt anyone, of course, but just to get the boy's attention. He hasn't asked you to Hogsmeade because both of you know it doesn't work that way for the two of you. So you go with other boys, letting them kiss you sweetly and hexing them when they try to go further. Your reputation as a heartbreaker and going through boys as fast as parchment is known by all and it's your source of selfish pride. Da gives you a strange look over Christmas hols, but just shakes his head, sighs and says that as long as you are responsible, he won't stop you. Mum cries and turns away a little, so then Da hugs you and says maybe you should have just been put in Slytherin after all.

You're Quidditch Captain now and go head-to-head against the Slytherin boy; he gives you a sly smile and you sneer and the air around you is so charged you're sure to melt into a puddle. The game, it is fast and it is hard. He spends his time throwing quaffle after quaffle through the hoops, but it is your capture of the snitch that claims the Cup once more for Gryffindor. Your stomach clenches in fear of his proud rejection, but as he shakes your hand in congratulations you realize that somewhere along the way, _this_ boy became a man.

That night, when he sneaks into your dorm for the first time, your lovemaking is slow and lovely and it's with this that the man is yours. Afterwards, you lie in his arms and wonder if this is what it feels like to be complete.

Your last year is wonderful and agonizing all at the same time. Denied the Head Girl position - Professor McGonagall was really never one for favoritism - you throw yourself into Quidditch and slaughter the competition. It gets the attention of professionals and offers are thrown at you from every direction; if they couldn't get Harry Potter, they will try as much as they bloody can to get you. They love your red hair and lily-white skin and dream of your face on their posters; you just wish you could share it with your Slytherin who finished with Hogwarts the year before. It is bliss when he visits, but you're torn in two when his parents forbid your union. For they've watched you as well and do not approve that two of your great-grandparents were muggles. What self-respecting pureblood family would?

You weep in front of the fire as you tell Da this over a long weekend; when he closes his eyes and puts his hand on your Mum's knee, you know with uneasy certainty that this is where it all will change.

There are secrets, Da says, that would have to come out one day. There are reasons why you hold your head high so naturally, why you seek like no one else alive, why Professor Snape loves you and why Mum sometimes cries for no reason.

Once, there was a girl who cared for a boy; he made her think he was a man and that he could choose his own path. The boy lied. Maybe it was because he cared for her, but not enough to change. Perhaps it was that she was so beautiful and would be a perfect revenge. The reasons could be guessed at, but never truly known. All the same, still he left her used and pained and with a secret only two others would ever know of.

Da closed his eyes then and continued without looking at you. There was another boy who chose to be a man and carried out this intention. He'd loved the girl and, to her confusion, kept on despite her having been used, pained and left by a follower of his enemy. Their own hero, Dumbledore, had died by then, so they turned to the one man they knew was trusted beyond others. He was the one man who they knew would not tell their secret out of loyalty to his own House.

Professor Snape helped them marry quietly and some months later they rejoiced in the birth of a little girl that was destined to be both ambitious and respectful, both powerful and noble.

When the truth of what Da is saying hits you, at first it's impossible to move. When you can finally gather the strength you try to run, but Mum stops you at the door.

Her past is not what she had expected, Mum says, but she wouldn't change it because she has you. She loves Da, so much, but it was always hard when she saw the boy in you; she wept because of all he had lost and the fear that you would follow in those steps. You fight back the anger when she says this, but she won't let you turn away. Instead she embraces and asks you to forgive her, to pardon her sin of holding back just a little all your life.

You breathe deeply and fight the urge to scream, the fury and hurt kept at bay as you look into her pleading brown eyes. It tamps down as you comprehend that nobody watched Mum as they watch you, no one saw that it took a while before she found the boy who would become a man for her. She didn't search herself all her life like you have just so you can know something no one else does. Slowly you embrace her back, you forgive… and it is then that Mum stops turning away when she cries.

The pain doesn't go away, though, especially when you have to go back to Hogwarts after Easter hols. Your Slytherin doesn't visit. You start to think you've been made a fool like Mum was and he'd lied just like another masquerading boy. All that pent rage goes to him and your sympathetic, curious friends let you be because by now everyone knows you could just as easily be an Auror as much as a Quidditch player.

At the Leaving Feast, you're asked to stand and accept the House Cup for Gryffindor. Your parents were seated next to you, along with Sirius, Jane, Bilius, and Little Black who finally came along. They smile widely and your heart warms as Daddy holds Mum close and she waves happily at you. Everyone watches them and watch you, silently appraising the happy family and you smirk to yourself as you realize that they've had it wrong all along.

And yet they've had it so very right.

Many of the summer days pass lazily in the field next to the home in Godric's Hollow. Mum took the younger ones to Diagon Alley, but you don't feel like having eyes on you today. You have it enough in the Puddlemere stadium and today is a day of rest.

Closing your eyes against the blazing sun, you think of the Hogwart's battlegrounds where there is a marker for a boy who never became a man. Mum forgave him enough to put it there and you love her all the more for it. His mistakes led to a life unlike any other, but you know that despite having Draco Malfoy as a father, having Harry Potter as your Da made all the difference.

When a shadow passes over your face, you open your eyes to see the Slytherin. You take a shuddering breath and he stares for many moments as if all courage is gone. But then he sits next to you, pulls you close and you know that he's made his decision at last. It is here that he shows that he can indeed measure up to your hero, even if it came a little late. Forgiveness comes easily here, too, and as you rest your head on his shoulder you feel as if you've finally found home.

You wonder if you should tell him that his parents need not hesitate because he'll marry a pureblood in the end. Perhaps later, when their slight has worn away and they can be trusted to know the truth and yet say nothing. But for now, while no one is watching, you find your fill in this love and your family… and you decide that that is enough. It is more than anything you could have asked for.

A/N: Confused? Enraged? Delighted? Tell me!

I wrote this originally as a one-shot and then decidedit demanded further explanation. There are four more chapters, all with differeing points of view and a staggering plot . I hope you enjoy it.


	2. Mum

Summary- She wasn't stupid, just hopeful. And sometimes hope just isn't enough. Ginny has a story and she'd like for you to know it. Continuation of the Watching the Daughter Storyline; 3rd Person Narrative

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter; I do own this story and its staggering plot, odd as it is. Stealing's bad.

* * *

Mum  
Part Two of Five

"I hate how they all stare at me," Ginny said quietly.

This was the first time she said it out loud, but the look on Harry's face confirmed that he'd known all along. He held her hand tighter as they walked along the corridors of Hogwarts. "Just ignore them. It's no use to acknowledge it."

"You sound like Hermione," Ginny replied. She tried to sound teasing, but instead it came out sounding resigned and tired. She _was_ tired. Tired of the stares and whispers, tired of the speculation of how _Ginny Weasley_ could have gotten herself into such a situation.

Pardon the slip, _Ginny Potter_.

Nobody knew when they got married, not even Hermione and Ron, which infuriated the pair to no end. They'd shown as much in the past twenty-four hours. No matter of badgering on behalf of either of them had yielded an answer. All anyone knew is that the day before Ginny had taken off her robes in the Great Hall during a particularly heated lunch to reveal a bump on her abdomen which had not been there a few weeks before. Harry's hard look at anyone who dared to comment cemented the idea that he knew something about it and was very likely the other half of the puzzle. Besides, everyone knew that they were _something_, but married? And parents-to-be?

Ron and Hermione had appeared shocked, McGonagall horrified and all the rest of Gryffindor dumb-struck when Ginny smiled tightly and pulled a ring from her book bag and resolutely put it on her left hand. Harry had done the same and they continued eating without so much of an iota of explanation to wet hungry imaginations.

No one noticed that one professor didn't appear surprised at all.

In fact, Severus Snape looked downright concerned.

* * *

"Mrs. Potter, may I inquire as to how you are feeling today?" Professor Snape's voice came from over her shoulder and Ginny barely resisted the urge to jump out of her skin. His tone was on the very edge of mocking, but she didn't rise to the bait.

"Fine," she answered softly before she added dried nettles to her potion. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her partner stare open-mouthed at her, but Ginny ignored her as she gave the potion one full turn.

"Very well," Professor Snape nodded gravely before walking away.

Their eyes were on her, she could feel it coming from every corner of the room. Part of her wanted to run away screaming, just to give them something else to talk about. The little bit of level-headedness left convinced her to say mute and concentrate on the assignment.

"G-Ginny?"

She sighed inwardly. "Yes, Beverly?"

"I just, um," her Potions partner bit her lip. "I was wondering, how are you?"

"I'm well, Beverly," Ginny gave her a slight smile before turning back to her chopping.

"You know." Oh, if only Ginny had just ignored her. "We all think it's really romantic, how you and Harry eloped without telling anyone. I mean, to brave your brothers like that, especially Ron."

Ginny stared blankly at the girl, wondering if she'd get the hint to be quiet.

"Harry's the best bloke around and you're pretty great, too, so it's just like a real fairy tale. And now you're having a baby. You must be the happiest people ever."

The knife in Ginny's hand dropped with a clatter. Closing her eyes for a second, she pasted as big a smile on her face as she could stand and replied, "We are, thank you."

Beverly blushed. "You're welcome."

"I really need to get finished with my notes," Ginny gestured towards the parchment. "Are you ready with your half?"

"Oh, yes," Beverly motioned towards her side of the table. "I've got it."

"Thanks," Ginny turned from the girl and sat, her smile immediately dropping when she knew no one could see her face.

How had this gotten so bloody confusing?

She would have liked to leave immediately after class, but she knew Harry would stop by for her and they both knew Snape wanted to have a few words with them. The rest of the class jumped at the sound of the bell, with more than a few curious glances aimed at her when Harry appeared at the entrance to the classroom. Professor Snape had disappeared through a door to his office; Ginny was about to go through when Harry's hand grasped her wrist.

She tensed just a bit, but Harry pulled her towards him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss into her hair.

"What's this for?"

Harry stepped back and gave her a strained smile. "I really needed it. I thought you might, too."

It hurt a little inside to see his face so drawn. "Ron?"

"And Hermione." Harry sighed and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. They'll have to get used it sooner or later."

"Harry-"

"Don't, Ginny," Harry started walking towards Snape's office, pulling her with him. "I haven't regretted one decision and I won't start now. Come on, he's waiting."

Sometimes she wondered how one person could have such terrible then wonderful luck. Harry, sweet, awkward Harry, had brought the wonderful when she wasn't looking for it, when she thought it was hardly likely come again. And yet, she had no idea what to do with it. It was as if having a wonderful present dropped into her lap that she couldn't quite figure out how to function. She knew it was good and a blessing, but that's where the understanding ended.

"Mr. Potter." Ginny broke out of her thoughts as the door shut with a soft click behind her. "Mrs. Potter."

"Professor Snape," Harry replied. It amazed her how easily he could say that now and, even more so, how she could.

"Professor Snape," Ginny repeated. She took a deep breath and adjusted her robes to hide her slightly swollen belly.

"Now, now, Mrs. Potter," Snape said darkly. "It's a little late for that, isn't it?"

"She had no choice," Harry answered roughly. "It was burning in the Great Hall and we both knew everyone would find out eventually. I'd rather her be comfortable than stay layered just so no one knows."

"Watch where you step, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said warningly. "Noble" - he said with that age old disdain – "as you are in your intentions, you've caused a ruckus at this school. I would have appreciated a warning before yesterday's little display."

"You try being pregnant and dressed in three layers of garments when there's sunlight bearing down on you," Ginny protested. She knew it was no good to argue with the man, but she couldn't help herself. As it was, both Harry and she already felt more than a bit foolish for their quick decision, but what was done was done.

Snape looked as if he really wanted to give sharp reply, but he held back admirably. Harry was on edge beside her, but said nothing else to provoke the older man. If there was one thing that had been brought upon by this entire situation was a mutual respect between the two men. One had grudgingly recognized that the younger was key to the salvation of Wizarding kind while the other consented that to trust in the older was the smartest decision they could make.

Especially when it came to this. Snape was the only one who knew when they had married; after all, he'd performed the ceremony only a month before in this very office.

"Mr. Potter," Snape finally said. "I asked you here on Order business, as it is our priority. You will not be surprised to find that your status as a husband and soon to be father has quickly reached the ears of our You-Know-Who."

Harry took a quick breath, but only nodded.

"We expect him to attack soon, particularly here. Where else would he find you at your most vulnerable?"

"Right." Harry squeezed her hand once and then let go. Crossing his arms, he said, "Have the Aurors been alerted? The Ministry?"

"They have." Snape gave a slow nod. "Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are in the midst of strengthening the wards, though we know they will only hold so long. We are currently finishing setting up the protected floos so that the students can leave the premises as soon as possible."

They had discussed this before and Ginny knew they were only going down a checklist. Her insides felt as if they were tumbling about as Harry and Snape went over each step they'd decided on if Voldemort were ever to attack the castle. It seemed unreal that it was upon them, but there it was. Dumbledore had died in a small battle only less than a few months before and ever since it had been up to these two men to see that everything went according to plan. It was a strange partnership, but it worked and worked well even if a very select few knew of it.

"Ginny, did you hear what he said?" Ginny snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head. "Professor Snape said you can be one of the first to evacuate when the floos are ready. The _fidelius_ is in place and will go into effect as soon as you and he complete the charm at the house."

This was the part that terrified her. Her condition had left them no choice but to be among the most protected. It bothered her willful nature; she'd been in every single battle up until now, right by Harry and the Order's side. But there was more at stake here and she knew when to give in.

It was a blow to realize, however, that what bothered her more was being away from Harry. Over the last couple of months they'd grown close and her fondness of him had yet to reach an end. In fact, Ginny would readily agree that she liked him quite a lot, not just as a friend, but as someone she could have fallen in love with if he'd been given half the chance.

To say theirs was a strange courtship would to be understating quite a bit.

They exchanged their goodbyes with Snape, more burdened than before but prepared for the near future. He was walking them out of his office when they saw someone stepping through the door of the Potion's classroom.

Draco Malfoy took one look at Harry and Ginny's clasped hands and gave them both a cold glare.

"And as much as I enjoy your front of solidarity," Snape drawled from behind them, "I would suggest you take it elsewhere. Such juvenile attempts to be adults are painfully shy of the mark."

Ginny winced, but turned her eyes to meet Malfoy's straight on.

Snape caught Harry's attention. "Get out of my sight before I assign you another year's worth of detention for your profound lack of common sense, Mr. and _Mrs._ Potter. Why Professor McGonagall refused to expel you will forever be a mystery to me."

Harry practically growled at the other man. "You forget I'll be out of your sight in less than two months, anyway."

"If you live to see that time, I will be more than amazed," Snape said back smoothly and it caused a shiver to go down Ginny's spine. "And I do believe I told you to get out once. Do not make me repeat myself."

She could still feel Malfoy's eyes on her back even after they left the dungeons and made their way up to Gryffindor Tower. He knew. She was sure of it. The thought made her hands shake and Harry was quick to realize it, so instead of going through the Fat Lady's portrait they continued on to an empty classroom a few stairways down.

Once again, he pulled her into an embrace that she hadn't even recognized she needed. Settling into Harry's arms, Ginny wondered why she had to take this winding path to him rather than going straight in. It would have been so much easier. There was a flutter in her belly and she hugged Harry tighter in hopes that everything would become clear.

"Are you afraid?" She finally asked.

He waited a while before answering in a whisper, "Yes."

Hugging her closer, he added, "Are you?"

"Yes." Ginny swallowed hard. "I want this to be over. I just want to be safe, I want to be able to go home and everything to be all right. I just… want to go home."

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to try, Ginny. I swear I'll fight my hardest to get that for you."

"Please be careful. I need you to be." Ginny pulled her head back and pressed her lips against his. They hadn't kissed very much, hardly any at all, and they'd always been soft and hesitant. This time, though, she welcomed the heat of his mouth, the taste of his tongue; he was careful at first but soon became insistent and his hands twisted into her hair.

Ginny pushed against him, trying to milk as much from him as she could. They'd never kissed like this and she wondered if Harry had been holding back this entire time until she was comfortable with him. Whatever the case, she felt unsettled and lost when he pulled back from her.

His hands were still tangled with her hair, but his palms at her jaw. He looked seriously into her eyes and quietly said, "I love you."

Her chest constricted a bit; it always did when he told her. She still couldn't believe it, but he always looked at her the same, never wavering when he said it. And it always made her heart hurt when that she couldn't say it back. Catching her lips between her teeth, Ginny nodded.

"I mean it," Harry insisted. "I need you to know that I mean it."

"I know you do. I do." Ginny lifted her hands and grazed his cheeks. He closed his eyes and rested a cheek against her palm. The look a peace on his face was one she envied with every part of her.

"Stay close to Snape," Harry said, eyes still closed. "He's the only one I trust with the two of you."

The color drained from her face and Harry's eyes popped open when he realized what he said. He was about to speak again when Ginny slid her hand over his lips.

"We should get back," she prompted him.

"Yeah." Stepping away from her, Harry picked up their book bags from where they'd been dropped on the floor. Then he led her back to Gryffindor Tower without another word being said and so many others kept in.

* * *

They knew that some of the plans would fail; after all, Voldemort had some plans of his own and those were in direct conflict with theirs. Ginny had expected as much, as did Harry, Professor Snape and the rest of the Order.

She just hadn't expected it to literally blow up in her face.

They'd been getting the last of the fourth years into the floos when a rumbling sound came from within. Barely having enough time to scream out the safe house's password, Ginny threw herself behind Professor McGonagall's desk and braced herself for the explosion. Stone flew everywhere and clouded the room with dust; similar explosions with accompanying screams could be heard all the way down the hallway and Ginny's heart clenched at the thought of those who had been too late.

Not wanting to think of that, she quickly began to make her way down to the dungeons. Already in the main entranceway there were spells being flung between the older students who had long since chosen their sides. She saw Daphne Greengrass taking on Marietta Edgecombe; Ginny quickly threw a tripping jinx at Marietta when she saw it was the second girl who was wearing the Death Eater Mark on her arm. Daphne gave her a thankful smile before binding Marietta and Ginny continued in her escape.

She was supposed to have met Snape long before, but even then things had begun to go wrong. Hermione, not bothering to care about Harry and Ginny's secret keeping when more important things were at stake, had tried to help her get down to the dungeons but to no avail. A terrified group of first and second years had needed a guide and since Ginny wanted to stay out of sight, she hid with them until they found a protected floo. Then there was the duel with Theodore Nott, which was thankfully short since he was quick to assume a pregnant girl couldn't outwit or overpower him.

Ginny had done both and quite well at that.

The sight in the dungeon was not a welcome one. Snape lay on the ground before his office fireplace, barely breathing and blind to the world. The man he had dueled lay dead several meters away; she couldn't see who it was behind the mask, but she didn't look enough to try. Ginny prayed that the darkness surrounding Snape was only temporary, but there was no way to he'd be able to go through the fireplace without guidance and they both knew it. What was worse, when she tried to go towards it, she was pushed back by a powerful hex. This would not be the place of her escape. Finally, at his insistence, she helped Snape into a position where he could protect himself and then sought out another place to hide.

Ron was the first person she saw when she passed by the main entranceway again. His opponent had a mask on, but a bit-too-high disarming jinx on Ron's part had the hood ripping off to reveal Pansy Parkinson. She fought back determinedly, but the onslaught of two Weasley's was too much and she was soon running from them and to the entranceway outside.

Her brother gave her a look of pure fear as he took note that she was somewhere she had no right to be; Ginny reached out to him and touched his shoulder once before they heard another curse and were both diving to protect themselves. Ron gave her cover as she ran, but spells were flying everywhere and the only clear path was to leave the castle.

* * *

It was worse on the Hogwarts grounds and if she could have gone back in, she would have. At the back of her mind, she knew that Harry was somewhere out there but she didn't know where and didn't know how to go to him. She couldn't hold back the urge to weep, frantically thinking that she had missed her chance to say that she loved him back, even if she wasn't ready for it, wasn't sure that she loved him just yet.

She could have, if they'd had time. It wouldn't have been long. One more kiss and she would have been able to show him. Ginny was sure of that much. She wanted to kiss him just one more time. Surely that couldn't be too much to ask.

Tears were stinging her eyes and Ginny ran as fast as she could. To where she didn't know, but she kept pumping her legs as quickly as they could go. Along the way, she came across many others who were itching for a duel and she indulged them. A few of them seemed to go down faster than she was sending spells, but Ginny paid no attention to her dueling prowess. Fighting them was the only way to distract her from wondering where Harry was. It distracted her from wondering if Draco was anywhere near him.

Draco. She hadn't let herself think of him for such a long time. He was the forbidden subject, but now everywhere she looked she saw tall men with Death Eater masks and Ginny wondered if he was behind one.

Her mind was tired, her body throbbing from all she exerted on it, but she kept fighting and promised herself she always would.

A burst of fire flared above her and Ginny fell to the ground with a cry. She landed on her side and found herself looking straight into the blank eyes of Katie Bell and sobbed aloud. She wrapped her arms around her belly and slowly rocked back and forth, not knowing where to go next and grasping for any direction.

There was another burst of fire in the sky and Ginny felt along the ground for her wand. Her heart sank when she found it broken in two, its feather poking out of the end. It was useless, so she threw it aside and rose to her knees. She searched Katie's body for her wand but found it broken, as well. Finally standing straight up, she screamed in surprise as a curse barely missed the side of her face. In the distance, she could see a woman pointing a wand at her and a tall fellow in Death Eater robes pulling it down.

It was Draco.

She stopped thinking. Later Ginny would question just how she had managed past all the figures on the ground, how she could see through all the smoke. What had she expected to do, both alone and wandless? All she focused on was crossing the field to where Pansy and Draco stood out clearer than everyone else, even in the dimming twilight.

They were arguing, Draco in his familiar icy tones and Pansy with a shrill, grating shriek. As Ginny drew closer, sometimes tripping over a fallen comrade or enemy, she could just make her out their words.

"No reason…be… grounds… gets… deserves," was all she could hear of Pansy.

"None… to touch…" Draco pointed his wand straight at Pansy's throat. "…clear?"

Pansy screeched loudly and brought her own wand up to Draco's face. Her fear was more than apparent and Draco, his chin high, shoved his wand into her skin.

"Do I make myself clear?" Draco said slowly. His voice finally carrying all the way to her, Ginny stopped and stared at him. And, ever so quickly, she saw his eyes flick past Pansy's shoulder and catch sight of her. They widened only slightly, but Pansy was quick to turn and point her wand to Ginny's shivering figure.

"Perfectly," Pansy said with cutting sweetness, wrenching away from Draco's wand. Snapping her wrist, she uttered an incantation Ginny had never heard before and a red glow emanated from the end of her wand.

"No!" Even as Ginny jerked aside, Draco's hand slammed down on Pansy's and the force of it knocked her off her feet, but not before she grabbed onto Draco and took him with her. Their robes swathed their bodies as they rolled on the ground, each fighting for the upper hand. Ginny watched in horror as Pansy managed to point her wand directly at Draco's stomach and said the incantation again.

This time it hit exactly where she aimed.

Draco's head snapped back, intense pain evident across his features. He gave no resistance as Pansy kicked away from him and stood, her face bloodied and robes in disarray. She spit on him and set her wand towards his face.

"Weak," she hissed. "You were always weak."

Draco wheezed and clutched his hand to his stomach, where blood blossomed in between his fingertips. His gaze caught onto Ginny's and she only saw a fleeting moment of pleading there before he glared up at Pansy. Ginny moved closer when she saw Pansy's attention was on him and not where she was reaching towards the ground. "Always knew you would be the Dark Lord's whore."

"At least it's someone with power," Pansy hissed. "You'll watch her die first. Her and the bastard."

"No, he won't," Ginny said lowly. Holding Draco's wand to Pansy's ear, she saw the girl's one last look of astonishment before she yelled, "_Stupefy!_"

The Death Eater's body fell like a stone; Ginny quickly put a binding charm on her as well before she turned to Draco. Barely holding back a wail, she breathed out, "No… oh, no."

"Too late, Weasel," Draco rolled on his side, turning his back on her. The blood hadn't slowed and now it seeped through his fingers like a river.

"It can't be, oh, it can't," Ginny's hands fluttered over him before she gripped on his side and had him face her. "Draco."

"Just let me die," Draco groaned.

And he was going to, that much was so clear that it pierced her inside and out. Of all the ways she'd thought of hurting him back, she'd never considered this. Never. "Please, not like this."

"Too…" He tried closing his eyes, but they snapped open when Ginny pulled closer. "Too late."

Only one thought came to the front of her mind and Ginny jerked one of his hands to her belly. It was slippery from blood, but she didn't let go. "Then say goodbye."

He was too feeble to fight, that much was obvious. His palm laid flat against her, but only because she was holding it up. Though his eyes rolled to the back of his head, even then she could see his resistance.

"Just say goodbye, Draco," Ginny ground out the demand. "That's all I ask."

"I-" Draco coughed and a splatter of blood burst from his lips and onto his cheek. His eyes were losing focus and with every moment that passed, the vice gripped harder on Ginny's insides. Finally, he said hoarsely, "Go. Just… go."

"No!" She held his hand as tightly as she could. "Damn it, Draco, give me this much. Tell her goodbye."

"Leave," he whispered again, barely raising his head from the ground. Almost all strength spent, it dropped back down.

"Damn you," Ginny's voice shook and she raised a fist and threw it hard down on his chest. She hit him again. "Damn you! All I want is this, at least give me this!"

The light was fading quickly now, both in his eyes and around them. Ginny tried to bite back a sob, but it came pouring out. Her chest heaved and shook her whole body, the uselessness of it all overcoming even her strongest will. "Oh, no… no," she moaned. "Please, Dra-"

His was one last shallow breath and her desperate eyes took in every moment of it. "Already… did."

And then the dark closed in.

* * *

Harry found her hours later, after the battle was over and when true terror had set in. She was clawing at the ground with only her hands, her fingers raw and bloody and nails slashed back. She'd made a shallow hole in the ground at the base of a tree, only a meter long and no more than twenty centimeters deep; beside her was the slumped body of Pansy Parkinson, looking none the worse for wear and thoroughly stunned. It was Harry's gasp that he let out when he saw what was on the other side of the hole that broke Ginny's frenzied digging.

"Harry," she whispered. She looked at her filthy hands and up to him and then back. Her eyes were unfocused, lost. "Harry, you have to help me."

"Ginny," Harry could barely say it. He tried not to look at Draco Malfoy's lifeless body, but his eyes were brought to it again and again. "Ginny, I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I…" Ginny sobbed and then put her hands into the soil again. "I need to finish. Help me finish."

"Gin-" He tried to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away. Picking up speed, she tossed soil in every direction.

"We've got to do this much for him, Harry." Tears poured down her face and she wiped at them haphazardly, leaving dark streaks on her cheeks. "I can give him this much. He can't stop us now."

All he could do was stare at her as she deepened the grave. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her hands, her arms, her entire _body_, Ginny said, "He never, ever had a chance. He wanted it, he just couldn't find it."

Her insides were breaking apart, her mind flashing over and over as she saw her friends fall, fire burst in the air and the river of blood…

_The river of blood._

"You BITCH," Ginny turned on Pansy's prone figure, slamming her fists anywhere she could reach. She scratched at the undefended girl's face and screamed with all the pain that was inside of her, aching to be released. "Madwoman! Whore! How could you do this to him? How? He was so close!"

Harry scrambled forward and pulled Ginny back, but her legs kicked out and connected solidly with Pansy's cheekbone and they could both hear a sickening _crack_.

"Stop it! Ginny, stop it!" Harry struggled against her, pinning her arms down and dragging her away from the two Slytherins and the empty grave. "Ginny, please listen to me! Please!"

She was moaning. Ginny could swear she was trying to say words, but all that came out was a keen sound of defeat.

"Please, stop, please," Harry buried his face in her hair, his lips at her ear. Speaking quickly and softly, he said, "Ginny, love, don't do this. Please think, please. I can't lose you here, I can't. I just can't."

Even when she finally slumped against him, he kept murmuring, "Hurt, but don't leave me. I couldn't bear it if you left me. Stay here, stay here, stay here… Please, don't leave me."

"Harry-" Ginny sobbed. She couldn't continue.

"I know," Harry answered for her. "It shouldn't have happened this way but, gods, please hold on. I couldn't ever bear it if I lost you. Not now, not ever."

He held her for a long time; years later, Ginny wouldn't be able to tell anyone how long it was, but it was enough so that when her body slowly awakened, the pain increasing ten-fold along with her awareness of reality. It was long enough so that when he finally lowered them down to the ground and cradled her in his arms, she could see the first lights of dawn on the horizon.

They were both exhausted, but Harry held on to her tightly the entire time until she relaxed fully. They both knew it the moment it happened and it was then that Harry dropped a tender kiss on her forehead. Never saying a word, he looked down at her face; she closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder and found her first taste of peace in a long while.

A low moan broke out and startled them. Harry looked up in time to see Pansy's eyes tremble open. He let her get no further, quickly uttering another powerful _stupefy_ and dropping his battered wand on the ground.

"Harry," Ginny sighed his name and pushed her face against his throat for a long moment before slowly easing back. She asked with her eyes and he slowly nodded, understanding what she needed.

Picking his wand back up and letting his wife's fatigued body slowly lay on the ground, Harry pointed at the tear in the earth. The soil flew out at once and settled in a heap at his feet. Finally looking at Draco's body for the first time in hours, Ginny could see his surprise to find the Death Eater's robes gone. Instead, he lay there in a bloody shirt and trousers, as if an innocent passerby who'd gotten caught up in a war of another's making.

"Ginny…?"

"I burned them," Ginny whispered.

Harry hesitated, then nodded before saying "_Wingardium leviosa_."

Draco's body rose slightly from the ground under Harry's control; from there, Harry gently lowered him into the ground and from sight. Ginny startled him when she rose to stand beside him as he slowly shifted the soil back over Draco. Ginny looked up to the brightening sky, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill over once more; she reached out and took Harry's hand just as the last of the earth was replaced. With one last wave of his wand, Harry smoothed the surface and watched an expanse of green grass sheath the burial site.

Ginny was about to take his wand when it occurred to her that there was already one in her pocket. Ever so carefully, she drew the ebony wood out and pointed it at the base of the tree which Draco finally rested.

"_Flagrate_."

Harry gripped her hand tighter as the initials _D.M._ scripted themselves into the trunk.

Above them the sky began to streak gold, pink, blue.

"Goodbye," Ginny said quietly.

Beside her, Harry took a shuddering breath and then nodded again. "Goodbye."

"Harry…" she leaned against him now, all energy gone. She didn't need to finish, she should have known that he would already know. At once, Harry picked her up into his arms and began to walk. Resting against his chest, Ginny finally gave in to the exhaustion that had been clawing at her for more time than she could remember. And though she mourned the loss of one boy, her heart began to heal; it filled all the same with love for the man who was taking her to where she needed to be.

He took her home.

* * *

A/N: Starting to make a little more sense? Please leave a review and/or constructive criticism if you've got it. 


	3. Severus

Disclaimer: The plot and OFC are mine, but Severus Snape and the world of Harry Potter belongs to the stupendous J.K. Rowling. Warning: Features a kinder Snape, but here's hoping the git can turn out to be all right in the end. I like hope, hope is good.

* * *

Severus

Part Three of Five  


Twice in his life, Severus Snape was blinded by Lucius Malfoy. The first time was when he was a young man with already shaded vision, embittered by a difficult childhood and skewed Slytherin ideals. He walked willingly into the trap and began to take pleasure in exhibiting power over those less talented and more trusting than he. Severus Snape dreamed of wreaking havoc on those who'd taunted him throughout school and Lucius Malfoy was right by his side, drawing out his dark thoughts and twisting his intentions.

Most would think he'd have been lost by then. Albus Dumbledore saw him differently. That one man – infuriating as he had penchant to be – pushed back the shadows so that Severus Snape could see the blood on his hands. And he hated it. So he changed.

It wasn't as simple as that, of course, but sometimes the specifics need to be forgotten. Only one thing remained at the forefront of his mind: he would never have another enemy like Lucius Malfoy.

Sitting now in the Hog's Head and staring hard into his drink, Severus Snape thought of what sat in his pocket. It reminded him of harder times, of the hardest day he experienced never mind all the battles he'd taken part of, the lives he'd finished. It reminded him of when blindness has claimed him a second, far more literal, time. A simple sheaf of parchment spellotaped shut with one name scrawled across the front brought back a rush of memories he'd rather glean over than relive.

"Professor Snape?"

He didn't answer her at first, instead drawing down a long swallow of his drink before carefully setting down the tankard. The remains slid down to the bottom and he watched them pool together as she sat down across from him.

"Professor Snape?" She asked again in that same slow drawl. It had never made him cringe before, but it did now.

"Potter, you graduated three years ago, surely you've gotten the point that you no longer need address me as Professor," he said lowly. His face contorted in what could only be called a smile, but it was so rarely seen on his face that that conclusion was questionable.

She laughed at him. She always did. Brushing back her red hair and giving him that Malfoy grin, she teased, "I'll just call you Severus then. Or should I say what Da says? It's rather rude, but you may like it."

"Twit," Snape grumbled, refusing to show how much she truly delighted him. To do so would give her the upper hand and who knew what she would with the knowledge.

"Such a thing to say when I've made time for you! Not even my fiancée gets a visit when he demands it. Really, Severus, you're quite special." She picked up his tankard and looked disappointed to see it was empty. "Would you rather I left?"

"No." Snape looked up at her. "I wanted to tell you Happy Birthday."

She gave him an incredibly pleased - almost smug - smile. "Thank you. Mum and Da are having a party tonight. Would you like to come?"

He waved off the invitation; there were more important things at hand than a silly party that hadn't stayed a surprise. "I have something for you."

"A present?" Clapping her hands together, she leaned forward with mischief written all over her face. "Dare I ask if it's expensive and rare? I won't settle for anything less."

On another day he would have laughed, she had that effect on him though he'd never tried to evade it. Instead, Snape stared as her hair fell forward over her shoulders. It was as red as the blood in his memories and his insides twisted as everything came rushing forward.

Struggle was of no use. It would all come back one day anyway.

* * *

_Snape braced himself for when Draco would stop staring out the classroom door and look at him instead. There was no fear there, but he couldn't ignore that this could be a confrontation to rival the ages. As Harry and Ginny's footsteps slowly faded away, the boy finally turned to face him._

"What do you know of this?" Draco demanded.

Snape raised his eyebrows but began to clean off his desk of scattered papers and flasks of potions. "What makes you think I know anything of it?"

"You in the Order are as thick as thieves when it comes to those who have proven themselves." He folded his arms over his chest. "Tell me. I want to know right now."

"I know what you do," Snape lied smoothly. "Mr. Potter has established yet again his foolishness and brought someone else along this time. I don't know why you bother to wonder about it."

"Because we both know very well that he is not the father of that child!" Red splotches were high on the boy's cheeks, but it was nothing compared to how all of the air in Snape's body escaped in one fell swoosh. He should have known Malfoy would figure it out.

Scowling at the boy, Snape said slowly, "And why would I think that your abysmal – and thankfully short - courtship with Mrs. Potter has anything to do with her pregnancy?"

"You can count as well as I do. Besides, we both know Potter's as much a virgin as Moaning Myrtle. Bloody idiot probably wouldn't know where to stick it anyway."

Inside he supposed the boy was right, but Snape didn't let it show. "Your interest in Potter's sex life is disgusting and unwarranted. Now unless you have something else to talk about, I must ask you to leave as well."

Furious, Draco kicked a desk and yelled, "Tell me!"

"Mr. Malfoy, control yourself!"

"You're punishing me, aren't you?" Draco kicked another desk, knocking this one over. "For not joining your precious Order, for not turning just like you. Well, I'm not you! Are you ever going to understand that?"

"I understand, Mr. Malfoy," Snape put his hands on his desk and leaned forward, "that you are whining over losing something you willingly gave up in the first place. Now stop being such a child and accept that it's gone."

The boy seethed, but stared back at him with defiance in his eyes.

"Not everything you've given up is gone, however," Snape added carefully.

Draco went pale and the sneer on his face dropped into a mask of indifference. "I will not discuss this with you."

"I can ignore your wishes just much as you can ignore mine," he replied. "Hear this, Mr. Malfoy, just because the mark is on your arm it does not rule you. I'm proof enough for that."

"You're proof?" Draco laughed out loud and the ugliness echoed off the walls. "You, who have lived a life commanded by Dumbledore's ideals, isn't that a mark of another kind?"

His rebuff stung, but Snape replied, "If it is, it's the mark of what's right."

"What's right?" Draco ran his hand over his head, frustration evident. "Being a proper little bloke and doing what someone else tells you to? Fighting for the freedom of people who you don't give two damns about you only to give yourself over to do-gooders who will go with their own opinions and not even consider yours?"

They'd skirted this conversation only months before and Snape knew exactly what the boy was getting at. He was very much like his father in that way. "Contrary to what you think, power is not everything, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sneered at him. "It isn't? You've gone soft. I can only imagine what my father will do when he gets his hands on you."

"I do not give two damns about what you father thinks," Snape shot back, using the boy's own words. "And neither should you."

"Well, what if I don't?"

"You've yet to prove to me otherwise. There was a time when you came close, but then you ran. You always run, Mr. Malfoy. Why is that? If anything you are ruled by your own fear." He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth and Snape could see him withdraw instantly.

"Then I suppose you won't mind if I leave now," Draco smiled mockingly at him and turn towards the door. "No doubt you'll want to be rid of the weaklings at first opportunity,"

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said. The boy didn't stop. Desperation came from nowhere and clawed at him; the cruelest inkling that this may just be the last he'd see of this boy made him try one last time. "Draco."

He stopped.

"It's a girl." Snape's hands clenched at his sides. "And you're correct. It's yours."

There was just the slightest deflation of the boy's shoulders; he didn't say anything for a long while and Snape searched desperately within himself for the perfect words. They didn't come.

Slowly, Draco looked over his shoulder, his profile grave. "Is that supposed to make me change my mind?"

Snape stared at him. "Will it?"

His eyes downcast, Draco shook his head. "I don't know. I've never known."

And then he walked away without another word.

* * *

Snape had suspected surprises, too. Ages later, his odd kinship with Ginny Potter would reveal their common expectance for many things to go wrong. The battle came earlier than he'd expected; there was barely enough time to race and open the last of the protected floos, pushing through child after child so that they could escape the carnage. Along the way he'd seen Ginny, but she'd disappeared among a group of other children before she could see him in turn.

He wouldn't have left them if he hadn't seen Lucius making his way into the Great Hall; no mask in the world could hide that arrogant stride. They caught each others attention and stood still even as the brawl began around them. There was still enough mutual respect there for the power both wizards held, it mixed with their hate just enough that when Snape attempted to draw Lucius away from the crowd, the other man followed.

Their own battle took place in his dungeons, where he'd stood only hours before with the younger Malfoy. He dodged, chanted, struck and was hit with pain that multiplied by the second. Returning the assault in spades, Snape could see where Lucius was weakening and yet still they fought. It would have been a spectacular sight to behold, but they were the only ones in the room and the lights from their wands were burning. One spell in particular was blinding, literally blinding. Lucius Malfoy had struck again.

As Snape fell to the ground, surrounded by a darkness he'd never known before, he heard Lucius' body hit with a resounding thud. Weakened - by the clash or the knowledge that he'd killed one of his oldest friends he'd never know - Snape tried to crawl towards what he thought was the front of the room. It was hard to breathe and he could feel his own blood streaming down from his eyes. His ears, however, could hear footsteps outside now, running at him and he slumped on the floor as they finally stopped.

"Where is she?" The voice was muddled and Snape knew he was quickly fading. "I need to find her!"

Snape didn't say anything. While his mind raced with thoughts, nothing he did could open his lips to say a word. He barely felt as he was lifted slightly and an incantation sounded at his ears that allowed his lungs to clear just a little. He took a giant gulp of air, but it was nowhere near enough to answer. When he still didn't respond, a hand roughly pushed aside his robes and put something in the pocket there.

"Snape! Listen to me!" The hands shook him now. "Don't try to use the fireplaces, they've already been tampered with."

He nodded numbly. Whoever it was, they only hesitated for a moment before setting him down. The footsteps started again, but now they were running away and it was only then that Snape knew who it was.

* * *

"Blimey, Severus, you look like you've seen a ghost." Reaching out, she put her hand over his.

"Perhaps I have," Snape muttered. Setting his mouth in a grim line, he reached into the front pocket of his dark robes and brought out the parchment. Tugging his other hand out from under hers, he forced it into her palm. "This is yours."

She gave him a curious look but glanced down at the letter to see her name across the front. "What is it?"

Snape gave her a scalding glance under lidded eyes. "You always ask the most infernal questions. It's a collection of parchment folded into a shape reminiscent of a letter. Surely you can put the clues together?"

"Well, you don't have to be so shirty about it," she said hotly. "For all I know it could be a love letter and I'd hate to turn you down because I'm quite in love with-"

"It's not a love letter," Snape said through clenched teeth. Sighing roughly, he shook his head. "Then again, it could be. I wouldn't know for I've never read it."

"Why not?"

"I do believe that is your name is across the front not mine."

He didn't want to be here. As much as he cared for this girl, he couldn't be here for this. Snape stood and was two steps away from her when he felt a warm hand on the sleeve of his robes.

"Please… wait," she stared up at him though he didn't look back. "Is it… it's from him, isn't it?"

Snape didn't answer.

"I can put two and two together, you know," she explained evenly. "Yellowed, expensive parchment, it's of a certain thickness we haven't used in years since the before the war ended. Grandpapa's agreement with the muggles over tree conservation saw to that. I've never seen this writing before, but it slants like mine, so that would be hint enough. And then, finally, you. Who else would he have hold it for safe-keeping?"

He let his eyes go to hers at last. "You never were stupid."

"No," she said softly. "Never."

Pulling his arm gently from her, Snape said, "I'll be leaving then."

"Don't."

That's all it took. Snape sat down across from her again. All joviality gone, she stared down at the folded parchment in her hand and then back up to him. "Thank you."

Unable to say anything, Snape only nodded gravely.

"I'm… I'm afraid to open it." There was surprise in her voice and he didn't blame her. She'd lived a life with little fear, unlike those who came before her.

"Don't be," he replied.

She smiled slightly and ran a finger under the edge to break the spellotape.

She opened it and began to read.

* * *

_More people came and left, some thinking he was already dead and some not. Ginny was among them and she discovered the hex on the fireplace before he could warn her. Then she disappeared, as well; later Harry came with the news that Ginny was missing._

Someone else discovered him after that and took him to what was left of the hospital wing. The softness of the bed was bliss on his aching body and he didn't even jerk when a burning salve was slapped on his eyes, his body was so far gone. In the distance, he could hear Harry begging people to tell them if they'd seen… someone. He was drifting away, along with his distraught questions.

Snape slept.

When he awoke, it was to the warmth of an unseen sun on his cheeks. There was no one near him, but he could hear the rustling and moans of fellow men and women in pain. Not uttering one sound, Snape cocked his head and waited for someone to realize he was conscious.

"Snape."

He'd been waiting for it for nearly an hour, but the voice startled him nonetheless. It was Harry.

"Did…" His voice was hoarse and it was difficult to speak. "Did you find her?"

"Yes." That one word carried so many emotions that it made him recoil. Potter was never good at controlling himself when it came to things such as these. Even so, he wanted to know.

"Is she unharmed?"

"For the most part," Harry answered quietly. He was on the verge of tears, but held himself back, Snape could hear it clearly. "Snape…"

"What," he said flatly. There was something to be said and Harry's dawdling was maddening.

"Malfoy's dead." The other man took a sharp breath. "Both of them."

His heart stopped. "Did you-"

"No. It was Parkinson." Harry's voice cracked. He evidently couldn't hold it in anymore and sobbed loudly. "Oh, gods, Ginny saw it. She was with him. She saw it all."

Snape turned on his side so that Harry couldn't see that he'd been joined in his weeping.

* * *

Time passed. A letter was discovered and hidden. Sight taken away was slowly returned. The child was born and named. The years came and went. Defense Against the Dark Arts positions were offered and rejected. He made decisions that affected everything. His life went on. But the pain stayed.

Along the way a girl with red hair and a Malfoy smile came to Hogwarts and sat on the stool in front of the Great Hall for a very long while. She smiled at Snape and waved happily when the conversation finished and made her way to the Gryffindor table. When she appeared early in his dungeon a few days later for Potions, he cuffed her on the side of the head and went though his lecture barely holding back an indulgent grin. She was stubborn, but he'd known her so long that he knew how to make her do her schoolwork and do it well. He taught her to excel in potions and she left tacks on his seat.

Where he called almost all students by their surnames, she was among the few that warranted conversation on a first-name basis. That is, unless he was particularly annoyed and only then was she relegated to Potter. She would tease him and he would scowl, but theirs was a camaraderie that puzzled others. They couldn't bring themselves to care. He watched her grow from a charming slip of a girl to a strong-willed young woman and when rumors came about, he let himself laugh out loud in an empty dungeon. Only a fool would deny that she could break a man's heart with a slant of her eyes.

When she fell in love, he quietly prodded her along.

In his most solitary moments, Snape would almost let himself admit that when he spoke to her, he saw a tall boy with blond hair. When she smiled the same smile, he would all but consent that in his mind the boy hadn't run away and died. Instead, in Snape's most hidden of dreams, he'd stayed and done what could still be done, changed where change was possible. And sometimes, but not quite, he'd come clean with the fact that everywhere he'd gone wrong with the father, he was trying to make it right with the child.

With her, he would not fail.

* * *

The crumple of parchment caught his attention. She was slowly folding it shut and tucking it away in her pocket as he watched and only when it was out of sight did she look at him. Her eyes, though the color a clear copy of her mother's, had the same shape that he'd seen in Narcissa's face once upon a time.

Snape looked away.

"He knew my name." She gestured to her pocket. "How?"

It was a calculated question despite its innocent tone. She was good at that. Snape shook his head as its simplicity weaved itself into his thoughts. How indeed?

"Perhaps…" He looked out the window where the sunshine gleamed brightly on Hogsmeade. Snape took time to notice it now. "Perhaps he trusted that I'd have my say."

Her mouth lifted up in one corner. "I'd say you did."

She smiled kindly and he closed his eyes.

"I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing worse than losing your sight." He spoke carefully; the words flowed out and he didn't bother to stop them. She sat up and listened intently. "You leave yourself open to be led astray. Even if you have an idea of where you're going, it's that much easier to be manipulated. Those who are fortunate have a guide out."

"He was unfortunate then." He should have known she'd understand.

"Yes," Snape said slowly. "He was."

She moved towards him. "I know you tried, Severus. I know you enough to come to that conclusion without it being said. Mum tortured herself enough over this and you have, too. It's time to stop blaming yourself. For all of it, even for all that happened before him."

Snape raised his brows at her and sniffed loudly. "Are you trying to impress on me that it's an easy decision to carry through?"

"I'd like to think that if you put your mind to it, anything is possible." She reached up and thumped his cheek a bit patronizingly. "Stop being so damn Slytherin about it and try to be happy for once. Truly happy. It's quite nice."

Snape shook his head at her and pushed her hand down gently. "Do you know the first thing I remember seeing, truly seeing, was you?"

She smiled. "Really? Do tell."

This memory was a fond one and he allowed it to wash over him. "You were less than a day old. Bright red hair, same as now. Small… you were small."

"And twenty years later, here we are," she drawled. He didn't cringe this time. She sighed apologetically and began to make motions to stand and Snape rose with her. "I'm sorry, but I must go. Try making it to the party tonight, there's fun to be had and I daresay you haven't experienced enough."

"Impetuous brat," Snape said, but his affection betrayed the words. She looked up at him and patted his cheek again.

"You know, this whole Severus thing isn't going to work."

"Isn't it?"

"Grand-Da. I think that'll do." Before he could stop her, she had pulled him into a hug and quickly released him, as if knowing not to test his discomfort. She knew him well. She always would. "I think it'll do just fine."

Twice in his life, Severus Snape's eyes opened to see the world in a different way. The first time around, he took hold of his fresh start though his old life left a mark that could never be erased. With this new sight, he saw more blood and catastrophe then any man had the right to view; it made a difference to know that he was doing the right thing though most times it was hardly a comfort.

The second time his eyes were opened was in a dingy little pub where a young woman with bright eyes and a compelling smile flicked his chin lightly before disapparating from view. He'd seen her prior to this, yes, but this time it was without the shadow of someone lost long before, without a jarring reminder of an entire bloodline of which only she remained. As he thought over this, realization hit like a herd of hippogriffs: without an old friend - an old enemy - she would not be there.

Severus Snape left the pub, pulling his cloak around him to protect from the autumn-chilled air. The day reminded him of twenty years before where he'd held an infant and said her name for the first time. As he made his way back to Hogwarts and to his dungeons, he thought perhaps things had worked out just as they needed. And, silently, he thanked Lucius Malfoy.

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A/N: I love reviews and welcome constructive criticism. Care to indulge me a bit?


	4. Draco

Draco  
Part Four of Five

_To the Child-_

There is one thing of utmost importance that you must know before you go on: be warned that I am not one to give in to emotions at any given notice. I, as any other Malfoy, pride myself on control. Do not think that I am not one for laughter or passion or hate, for I certainly am and it's gotten me into quite a lot of trouble. History can attest to that. The truth is that from a young age I was taught the value of holding oneself back until the appropriate time and I have mastered it.

However, I feel this is the appropriate time.

There is a battle coming in a few short hours. Not many know of it, but that's the beauty of a surprise attack. We catch the enemy unaware and that small advantage can be all it takes to win the battle. To win the war.

I'd like to tell you that you'd be proud of me, but seeing as you'll most likely be raised by the Great Scarhead, Harry Potter, you'll then most likely designate me as the enemy. That suits the situation just fine. It's not as if I didn't try the other side for a short while. It just didn't satisfy, is all.

Well, it's not all and there's much more to say on the subject, but I'll get to it in due time.

I do mean it, though, you being raised by Potter (gods help you). The Dark Lord is quite intent on winning and I am not foolish enough to tell him that he'll likely be on the dead end of the wand, sooner rather than later. Maybe even tonight. But, no, I wouldn't say it if I had the chance. I may be impetuous at times, but I'm not an idiot.

I wonder if you'll be like me in any way. Perhaps it's best not to think of that yet.

I should introduce myself: Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa. There's little hope you'll get a normal name in the end (Your mother's name is really Ginevra, did you know? **Ginevra**.), but don't blame me if people snigger behind your back your entire life. I've paid my dues and you must pay yours.

My Father is a great man; he works as the right hand man of the Dark Lord and makes all the appropriate advances for the intent of getting Muggles out of our hair. My mother, Narcissa, is a supporter as well and her efforts include hosting parties and trying to marry me off. Needless to say, you'd probably hate the thought of both of them. Feel free to do so; sometimes I do.

At this moment in time, I have less than two months left before I leave the halls of the dreaded Hogwarts. I really wish Mother had let me go to Durmstrang after all; I could have avoided all of this messy business. Then again, had I gone I would have avoided all this messy business and one can't change what one has experienced and I wouldn't be who I am. So I best not whine. I've been informed it's useless, anyhow. Besides, this letter and its recipient would be nonexistent if I'd gone to Durmstrang, so it's in your best interest not to use a Time Turner and make this all better for my sake.

…

I've tired of my attempt to be amusing. In all honesty, I simply don't want my mind on what is coming very soon on these very grounds. Lives are going to end tonight and I am unable to find any justification for going such lengths in order to keep our bloodlines pure. Surely it can be done without as much bloodshed, both pure and not. (Damn this growing conscience; it feels a meter short and a minute late.)

You'll be a pureblood; Malfoy and Weasley are as pure as you can get in Britain without entangling yourself with inbreeds by the names of Parkinson, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. The situation was assisted by the animosity between the two families; needless to say, your conception would come as a surprise to many. So, yes, you're a pureblood. I've accomplished this much with my life.

Your mother is a beautiful girl and I've no doubt she will be a beautiful woman. I will not stand the stars in yours eyes that dream that I loved her. I did not. I liked her, for she was a nice distraction from the war of our age and amused me at times. I know she did not love me either, but one does not need to be that far gone to be hurt by another. And I hurt her very badly.

I suppose I should just say why.

There was a battle. Not the one that is coming tonight, but rather just under three months ago. In it, Dumbledore died. You've heard of him by now, no doubt, so there's no reason to go into the circumstances of the combat. Up until that time, I'd grown tired of my father's agendas and the Dark Lord's continuous failed attempts to topple Potter. I'd thought to myself that I'd rather be on the winning side and it didn't take a wizard of irrefutable grade to see that Potter's side was stronger. For one, they're more loyal than Death Eaters. Those twits in hoods are more likely to turn our wands on each other in anger than those of the Order of the Phoenix. Hell, they do it when they're excited and can't find another way of entertaining themselves.

While the Dark Lord's side is assisted forward by the relentlessness of those among it, they are hindered by the squabbles between the ranks, the pursuit of power and the smell of fresh blood.

Regardless to say, I grew tired of it. I decided to see what else there was.

Snape helped me convince Dumbledore enough to let me into the edges of the Order. The headmaster didn't trust me one bit, of course, and he had no reason to. In fact, I esteem him a small amount for being that shrewd. He allowed me entrance to a few gatherings within the castle walls and therein I came across your mother. It was at those meetings that I stood at the end of her wand and I'm not ashamed to admit that her magical power is astounding. I constantly found myself resorting to my most Slytherin of measures to win a practice duel. Her capability even against those did not escape my attention or anyone else's.

Potter was already staring at her with those damn obvious eyes of his and I knew that he was contemplating an approach of his own. It was only natural that I would compete. We always have and I've constantly come out on the losing side. This I wanted to win so much, I felt as if victory was already mine.

To woo your mother is one of the most difficult things any man can set out to accomplish. She's a prickly little thing (are you surprised?) and there are several walls one must go through and obstacles one must go around before she loses that sharp tongue of hers. To this day, I have no idea how I convinced her to at least give me a chance. Her brother was livid, Potter wounded and I was pleased. Very pleased.

She certainly didn't like that I stood by – and continue to stand by – my beliefs on the wretchedness of mudbloods and half-breeds. But she did take into account that I didn't want to go around killing people for the hell of it, so she gave me a chance to see things her way. A clandestine Hogsmeade visit, some handholding and a good bit of snogging in unseen places later, we were a semi-solid pair. Not many knew and we preferred it that way. I was beginning to actually like her for her and I know she felt the same despite our differences. But then Dumbledore died.

Your mother went to that battle, do you know? She and Potter and Granger and a whole mess of Weasleys. I stayed behind because I didn't know of it; had I known, I would have probably still refrained. I was still in that in between spot of wanting victory but not sure I wanted it with the Order. If I'd been there, I daresay I would have stood in the middle watching each side until I felt one was gaining ground and then gone over with them.

I will never deny I'm of a selfish breed, never ending in my pursuit of pure satisfaction. Nothing ever satisfies, it seems. I thought for a time that your mother would. She came close, but it wasn't enough.

That night I sat alone in my quarters after hearing the news of Dumbledore's passing. There was weeping in the other houses to be sure, but most of Slytherin was quietly celebrating. It would not do well for the festivities to be heard. Dumbledore stood for many things that we as a whole hate, so that reaction was predictable. What was not predictable was my desire to stay away from it.

What was not predictable was your mother owling me in the middle of the night, asking me to let her into my room. I've never known what to do with crying women, but I imagine she had to get away from everyone else who was with the Order that night; she never gave me an explanation. I did attempt to control myself, but she was looking for as much comfort as I was though I wouldn't have named it such at the time. That was the only night we were ever together and that's all it took for you to become.  
That night I stared at my ceiling as she slept and I knew I wanted to do the right thing. But, Merlin help me, I don't know what that **is**. All I've ever known, been taught, is to seek out power where I can get it and use it; it's not about good or bad, wrong or right. It's about me and what I want. It's about control. That's all I know. I like it that way.

Do you understand?

Shite, I don't even understand.

The Order was not the life for me; I realized that truth during the night. What they were searching after I simply can't draw up from myself. I like power, I like having it over others and damned if I was going to give that up for them. If the only place I could find it was by joining the Dark Lord, so be it. If that side loses, well, I would have felt lost with the Order anyway.

All this came to me while I your mother slept beside me. While you began to form inside of her without my knowledge.

I don't even know how to say I'm sorry. To you or her. Is there even anything to apologize for? All I've done is to follow through on my own nature. She should have been wise to that fact from the beginning.

Our relationship ended the following morning, amidst your mother's accusations and my decided indifference. She assumed at first I was in it to pull one over her, to get a good shag out of it. I didn't contradict her. What else could I do, tell her what was going through my mind? Even now I don't know how to completely explain it. Besides, it's not as if she had – or has – a right to know.

She spent a lot of time with Potter after that and the few who knew we'd been together assumed she chucked me for him. I let them think it because by then I wanted to be as far from them as I could be. My time in the Order became regarded as a foolish phase to sort myself out and I carried it on in other ways, with other people.

It became quiet. Though I expected a good hexing between the eyes as soon as I blinked, your mother never raised a wand at me. I moved on. She moved on. After a while, I thought nothing of it even though I knew Potter was simply biding his time to move in on her. Merlin knows I was as shocked as the rest of them yesterday when she disrobed in the Great Hall and showed you off, in an addition to the ring on her finger.

Saint Potter. There's no way in hell he's laid a hand on her by now. Even if Snape hadn't confessed, I would have had no doubt that you were my child. Besides, it's just like Scarhead to act all noble and marry the girl who got herself mixed up with a confirmed Death Eater.

Yes, I am. That's the last I'll write of that.

A part of me thinks she understands my decision now. There was something about the way she looked at me when I walked into Snape's classroom this afternoon, something that told me she knew exactly what was trying to make itself known in my mind before I knew it myself. She's an intuitive woman. I'll miss that much about her.

It is time to get to the point of this whole letter writing business. The time is coming near for my march with the other men. Little do they know that I have no intention of fighting for them, none at all. It's an inconvenient time to have finally found a purpose, yet here it is. You see, there's a very small pureblood out there, the smallest and purest of purebloods and I have every intention of letting it see the light of day.

You. You will live. I probably will not.

Because Potter will win tonight, of this I have no doubt. And I simply cannot live in such a world. I don't wish to see my fellow men fall for insufficient reasons and then watch my child raised by someone else. Particularly Scarhead.

There are other reasons, of course. Some are much more substantial than the ones I just gave you. But maybe I'm just tired.

I think that's it. I'm tired. This is too much of a life lived by 18. Too many people have died for reasons I have yet to comprehend. Maybe I don't want to. I fear I'll be a much smaller person for it; I'm not willing to experience that for the sake of knowledge. Ask Granger if you're really all that curious, but for Merlin's sake don't tell her I told you to.

Perhaps your life has been less eventful. I hope it is. If it is not, then I hope you are stronger than I ever was. Perhaps being half Weasley will help you there. They're a stubborn lot. I don't even want to think what will come of you being raised as a Potter.

This is my hello, child. It is also my farewell. I intend to have it reach you on your 20th birthday, as that is the day all Malfoy's receive their full inheritance. If Snape makes it, as I hope he does, he'll know enough to give it to you then. There may not be much in Gringott's 20 years from now but whatever there is, it is yours.

That's all I needed to say; it may not be a great imparted wisdom, but perhaps it'll give you some direction. You're half Malfoy and that is justification enough for me to at least try. I wish you well and much better luck than I ever had.

-From the Father  
Draco Malfoy

P.S. I've changed my mind. An intricate name will do you some good during your lifetime. One can only hope that Snape will dupe Potter enough to give it to you. If not, at least you know what I would have given you if I'd truly had the chance.

Goodbye, Bronwen. 

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A/N: Sorry for the wait between chapters; standard disclaimers remain. Any reviews and construcitve criticism are welcome. 


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